


Morning light

by eyeslikerain



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Elio gets what he wants, M/M, Oliver's POV, The day after midnight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikerain/pseuds/eyeslikerain
Summary: Oliver's musings during the day after:"I embraced him, pulled him closer and put one hand on his tummy. He covered mine with one of his and settled himself against me."





	1. Morning light

I closed the door into Elio‘s face. I had to. He was far too lovely, a skinny, pale angel. I still felt his cock in my mouth and knew I had to stop here and now. I needed all my determination to act as cruelly as I did, but I was aware I‘d burn my wings and fall very deep if I didn‘t stop now. I stared at the green door for a few seconds. No noise from behind it, though I knew he must still be standing there. I almost heard our hearts beat in unison through the door and tore myself away before I‘d commit another foolishness.

Fortunately, Elio had closed his door to the bathroom. I peed, sprinkled water over my hands and my face and couldn‘t avoid a closer look at my lips. Which had been so intimately on Elio only minutes ago. What had I done? I was almost disgusted at myself and couldn‘t stand to look into my own eyes. The son of my hosts! The practically underage son! In their own house! I felt awful. How could I have given in to my basest desires? I was the older one, should have been the responsible one. I didn‘t know how to face Elio the next time we met. Keep my distance. Be busy and preoccupied. Avoid him. But – after all we had done? How could I? As long as we shared as close quarters as here, in our rooms, and he paraded half naked in front of me in swimming trunks or those ever slipping jeans all day long? His lovely, slender hips… His flat tummy...

I sighed louder than planned and froze. No sound from Elio‘s room. Good. I needed to get some rest. That‘s the way. Just grab some sleep and wait how the world will look then. Have coffee, have an egg or two, business as usual. Perfect.

I slipped into my room as noiselessly as possible and smoothed the door closed with my hands on the frame. Pulling my t-shirt over my head, I realized I wasn‘t alone: Elio lay in my bed, half under the tangled sheets, obviously still naked. He faced the windows and didn‘t move. Pretended to sleep, which was ridiculous as I was gone only for three or four minutes. I sighed inwardly, but was amused all the same. The spoiled brat. I hesitated before taking off my trunks, but they were still moist and cold. And I saw the beginning of the curve of his smooth, bare butt. I sighed. If he was naked, I could as well...

I undressed and slipped under the covers. Elio didn‘t stir.

„What are you doing here?“

„Sleeping. It‘s my bed, anyway.“

I couldn‘t avoid a chuckle.

„Elio. Please.“

He turned his head:

„Are you sick of me yet?“

I felt a pang of guilt in my stomach. Fuck. I had taken his virginity, made him feel all sorts of things, and still couldn‘t treat him as he deserved it. I felt like a cripple. Which I was, in a way. Crippled and clipped, trying carefully to keep all my emotions at bay. Not considering that I wasn‘t the only one involved. I had been silent far too long, and when I saw the insecurity in his eyes, his full, almost quivering lips, I swallowed:

„Of course not. In fact, I‘m glad you‘re here.“

I kissed his cool shoulder, moved closer and stretched out behind him.

„Come here.“

I embraced him, pulled him closer and put one hand on his tummy. He covered mine with one of his and settled himself against me. He smelled like the lake, earthy and a bit like moist leaves. I looked over his bony shoulder out of the window. My eyes got heavy. The first shafts of morning sun just turned into the room, painting golden rays over the furniture and the wooden floor. The tall trees swayed slightly. Everything was quiet but for a few birds.

„Will Mafalda come in?“

„Not when guests sleep here. If it‘s my room, she does. Asking all sorts of things about breakfast“, he mumbled. „Did she ever come to you?“

„No.“

He grunted, wriggled indulgently in my arms and finally turned his head to kiss me slowly on the lips:

„Let‘s sleep a bit, shall we?“


	2. Waking up the second time

When I woke up after a deep, dreamless sleep, the church struck twice. Half past eight? Half past nine? I squinted, but couldn‘t find my watch. Elio was still asleep. He had turned and wasn‘t in my arms anymore, but peacefully lying on his side, facing me. His hands were curled in front of him. Like a baby‘s hands. His traits were even lovelier in the serene golden morning light. The skin was pure porcelain, without the tiniest blemish. His plush lips were slightly parted, the long lashes gracing his cheeks. No wonder I had tried to avoid to wake up to such a seductive sight. No, he wasn‘t seductive – he radiated innocence and purity. In a way that made me feel bad again for what I had done to him. How could I even consider messing up such an angel? He was to be protected. To be worshipped from afar much rather than… I searched in his calm face for signs of the deep pleasure we had reached last night. His sweaty forehead, the closed eyes, the contorted features which made me wonder if it was pleasure or pain I gave him came vividly to my mind. I wanted to enshrine those memories, as they were a mirror to my own lust, but I was tormented by the fear I had hurt him and used him. I wasn‘t sure if talking would help. I tried to remember my first time – my really first time, not counting the girls preceding it – and felt the same hot guilt and doubts. I was messed up, and probably he would feel as confused as I had been? What had I done.

I moved and tried to get a glimpse of my watch on the night table. Elio opened his eyes drowsily. When he saw me, his face lightened up in a smile. I felt relieve flooding me. He didn‘t hate me. His eyelashes fluttered a few times before he slowly slid towards me:

„Elio“, he mumbled in his tenderest voice. I felt his warm, soft lips on mine and kissed him back.

„Oliver“, I smiled.

He sighed and closed his eyes again.

„Might be better if we don‘t turn up at breakfast together, don‘t you think? Just – keep it low?“

He grunted and nodded with closed eyes. I kissed his cheek, he played gently with my fingers.

„Are you all right?“, I couldn‘t avoid asking. He looked at me surprised:

„Of course I am. I feel great, actually. Last night...“ He sighed and looked at me sweetly. Oh no. Please don‘t fall in love with me. You deserve so much better. Poor child.

He must have sensed my inner turmoils because he seemed concerned:

„Are you all right? I mean, we did it properly? That‘s the way to do it, isn‘t it?“

His lack of experience and sincere kindness touched my heart. 

"Did you like it?" he added doubtfully. I nodded, tousled his curls and turned to get up.

„Just sleep in a little, why don‘t you?“

He grunted, turned on his stomach and curled one hand into my pillow. His „Later!“ sounded muffled and sleepy.

The turquoise bathroom seemed too cold in the morning. It didn‘t get any sun at this time of the day, and even if it was a welcome sanctuary when taking a shower before dinner in the hottest afternoon heat, I almost shuddered. We hadn‘t showered after returning from our morning swim. I wanted to erase all traces of lust, sweat and semen before facing his parents. Whose hospitality I had stretched very, very far. At least, I wanted to look respectable and responsible. Maybe it would help to behave like that also.

When I carefully parted my wet hair with a comb after my shower, my mother came to my mind. She always did this for me at the breakfast table, seconds before I left the house for school. Telling me:

„Never leave the house uncombed. You represent our family. Our name. No-one should ever see you but clean and well-groomed.“

„And always trim your nails. That‘s what makes a difference. Your grandfather used to say the nails told him more about a person than the most impressive resumé.“, my father added behind his paper.

„You have to work hard for your name. Always be good.“ This was the usual farewell of my mother. No kiss, no hug. Just great expectations.

My father, my grandfather… I felt the burden of my heritage weighing me down more every year while I distanced myself from their way of life. What would they say if they saw me here? Now? In the short swimming shorts I wore all day long? Deliberatly, I messed up my hair and tousled it. One look in the mirror made me grope frantically for the comb again. I didn‘t have Elio‘s curls that always fell effortlessly into place. A wet comb would be completely useless on them. And Samuel and Annella didn‘t seem to give a thought about properly parted hair. Elio‘s curls were allowed to behave and misbehave as they wished. They loved him anyway. I was sure he had the same unruly, splendid style if they attended some dinner invitation or he played in an audition in his conservatory as he had had last night in bed: wild, alive, unique. Representing all the crazy and creative ideas slumbering beneath this hair. Was this the reason my mother had wanted me to look inconspicous and neat and as conservative as possible? I sighed, dabbed some cologne on my neck and went downstairs.


	3. Breakfast with the parents

On the stairs, I realized I had forgotten the hardcover copy of „Armance“ Elio had given me next to the bed. He had decided to read along with me again, even if he knew the book. We enjoyed reading the same literature and talking about it. I didn‘t want to disturb him again, so I made a quick detour into Samuel‘s study to retrieve Elio‘s paperback edition. Samuel and Annella always enjoyed their respective papers at breakfast, but I wasn‘t fluid enough in Italian or French to do so also. But breakfast was, after a few sincere pleasanteries, mainly a time for reading in this house. Besides, the story of Octave had started to fascinate me more and more as I discovered more of myself in it than I had expected. When I read quite early in the book about the linden trees in front of Octave‘s parent‘s home that got pruned meticulously three times a year and stood for the upright moral standards of the family, I couldn‘t but tell Elio about the maples in front of my parent‘s home that were groomed and pruned equally. They always looked unnatural, much too tidy and neat. Elio chuckled, but seemed sympathetic also. He remarked that his parents didn‘t care about outer appearance, but about the results. Their orchard might not get a price for it‘s looks, but the fruit were outstanding. „Also you“, I was tempted to add. „Walking around with wild hair and bare feet, rarely wearing a shirt at all, having no set times when to be back at night – but look at your mind. Look at your piano playing.“ „It‘s not so much a question of aesthetics as of if you care what others think of you“, Elio mused. I marvelled at Elio‘s uncanny insight into my situation. Sometimes, he seemed so old and wise. Sometimes, he was the sulky teenager I liked equally.

Calm, yellowish morning light filled the garden when I stepped out of the house and greeted Elio‘s parents. Samuel chuckled:

„Too much poker yesterday? You look a bit – hung over?“

Annella smiled and reached for a cherry.

I tried to sound non-committal, banning the picture of their naked son under me that flashed through my brain.

„Aaaah… Got me!“, I tried to joke. „How was your evening? Did you enjoy your company?“

I had avoided the gay couple showing up in their flashy vintage car on purpose. It was too painful to get a demonstration of a way to live that seemed to be possible, normal even in Europe, that I never would be able to attain. Even if I longed to live like them. Samuel and Annella started a long ode about Isaac and Mounir, evoking memories of their student days together up to their recent publications. I was only listening with half an ear, pondering much more that they might not be too surprised if their son chose a similar way of life. Love-wise, not career-wise.

„How old are they? I mean, sorry, they aren‘t the same age, are they?“

Annella scrutinized me silently while Samuel went on:

„Tesoro, help me, are they four years apart? Five?“

„Five“, she confirmed and raised an eyebrow in my direction. It lasted seconds only, but I realized: she knew. I swallowed.

„Well, what is time if you find true love“, Samuel mused while rustling his paper. 

I turned this short exchange in my mind and played absentmindedly with my copy of „Armance“. These two in their pastel suits seemed to be happy together without being married. Octave feared unhappiness because of getting married. Only four days ago, before our infamous discussion about „things that matter“, before his revelation if it was better to speak or to die, Elio had asked me with an intense gaze if I thought there was another reason why Octave didn‘t want to marry. I knew what he was alluding to, even if we hadn‘t talked about those things yet. I held his gaze until his eyelids fluttered and his cheeks flushed in a light pink. I couldn‘t speak with him about those matters and hoped he wouldn‘t insist, so I said matter-of-factly that Stendhal gives us enough reasons already, there certainly weren‘t any hidden ones. His expressive eyes rested on me one beat too long and I was on the verge of getting confused. I feared he knew more about me than I wanted him to know. How could it be that this was only a few short days ago? And we had reached this new level of complete intimacy so quickly?

Elio turned up. The sun seemed to shine more golden, the whole garden seemed to radiate when he got out of the kitchen. He was silent, seemed a bit grumpy even, but kissed each one of his parents ostentatiously and sensually. I knew how those lips felt… Those soft cheeks… He barely acknowledged me, and even if I had had him, all of him, all night long, I felt painfully robbed of a kiss. If he was so generous with them he could as well… No, he couldn‘t. Of course not.

When he tried to sit down, Elio got up again lightly as if stung. He lowered himself more carefully onto the garden chair. I knew only too well why and where he felt sore and tried not to look at him. Instead, my gaze fell on Annella. Should I have been uncertain before if she really knew, this moment confirmed my worst doubts: she knew very well. In a way maybe only women, mothers can sense any harm done to their offspring. She didn‘t blame me, but: she knew. Samuel was happily occupied with his paper, Elio retreated to the role of grumpy adolescent. Well. 

Another plane droned above us when the telephone rang. Samuel got up, chanting „I get it, I get it“. Annella followed with the empty coffee pot and exchanged some words with Mafalda in the kitchen. Immediately, I felt Elio‘s foot on mine. I graced it, trapped it between both of my feet and asked under my voice:

„You all right? You sat down awkwardly.“

„You know why“, he smirked. He seemed satisfied and triumphant, though. He pushed against my feet: „I‘m splendid. Don‘t worry.“

He groped for the Nutella and a pancake and started to fabricate his usual uneatable treat while remarking casually:

„You remember when I told my father I almost had sex last night? With Marzia?“ He raised an eyebrow. I felt a surge of horror:

„Please don‘t do that now! You won‘t… Elio, you can‘t be serious!“

„Well, I‘d omit the „almost“...“, he joked. „Don‘t worry. Don‘t look so scared!“ He patted my arm.

I let out a sigh. After looking at him seriously, I added:

„I could never talk to my parents like that.“

„Well, I could. But I won‘t. It‘s our secret for now.“

I graced his foot, stroked him with my big toe.

„I think you mother knows.“

„Why do you think so?“

During his last words, Annella reappeared with a fresh can of coffee. She put it gracefully on the table, slightly patted Elio‘s shoulder and remarked: 

„I think you‘re both in for a nice long nap today. You both seem a bit sleepy.“

Elio and I looked at each other until I said casually:

„Great idea, Mrs. P. Didn‘t enjoy too many siestas here. And you know, when in Rome...“

I envied Elio his affectionate, warm parents. I couldn‘t imagine having parents like that – this was an experience that had completely passed me in life. Maybe I would be freer, had more self-confidence regarding my true desires if I had gotten the liberal encouragement Elio got?

Samuel came back also and I excused myself soon to go to town and get my translations of the day. My heart ached when I left Elio. When the thought that I could have had him for breakfast crossed my mind, I marvelled at my own insatiability. Even after a whole night together, I felt we had just started.


	4. Behaving in public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, when did this become so smutty?! Sorry if you expected a character study of Oliver...

When Elio followed me into town and seemed so needy and sweet, it almost broke my heart to realize how much our encounter in bed had affected him. I truly hoped I hadn‘t messed him up and tore him into a quiet corner quickly because I feared he might commit the same youthful foolishness that had gotten me into unpleasant trouble in college: to show any sign of affection in public. Tom and I hadn‘t had enough self-control back then and thought it was safe to kiss in a neglected corner of the library. Two bitter years of being ridiculed and ostracized followed. I wanted to spare Elio this experience, so I whispered urgently: „I‘d kiss you if I could“, expressing not only my still burning desire for him but also the need to keep up appearance in public at all costs. He‘d need to learn that. Moscazzano wasn‘t the villa. 

He looked at me silently and with slightly parted lips, pure seduction. I needed all my inner strength to refrain from kissing him. And, even more important, I needed to protect him from himself. His willigness to throw himself head-first and with utmost enthusiasm into unknown territory had overwhelmed me last night. He was all one could wish for in a lover, but he needed to learn how to channel his passion. When and where to lose himself fully. Where to be discreet.

Why, for heaven‘s sake, couldn‘t he forget me and smooch with Marzia in public as much as they wanted? I wanted to protect him from all the trouble and difficulties that lay ahead of him if he followed his inward needs. At the same time, I needed all my restraint not to kiss those sensual lips, not to drown in his hot mouth. How I already missed touching, devouring him. I needed to send him back, otherwise… I followed his lanky figure swaying on the bike with my eyes. I couldn‘t expect to hold him in my arms again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought about Elio all day long: when checking in with my translator, while cycling back to the villa, when working on the catalogue of the Berlin slides with Samuel. Elio was invisible in the house. I didn‘t want to ask openly, but when, in passing the kitchen, I heard Annella ask „Have you seen Elio?“ and Mafalda answered: „Should still be in the attic.“, I knew where to find him. In an unnoticed moment, I slipped through the seldom used door and found Elio upstairs, asleep on a dusty old mattress. He looked even lovelier than a few hours before. Even if I longed for his lips, I started to deliver on my promise, eased his shorts down and lowered my lips onto his soft cock. Like in the morning, he was hard in five seconds.

I had expected hurried, urgent afternoon sex. What I hadn‘t foreseen was Elio‘s emotional meltdown in my arms. While I held him, I felt his tears running down my naked shoulder. I thought frantically of ways to comfort him, of what to tell him, when I felt his lips searching for mine hungrily. I kissed him back, and it was only a matter of minutes until I had Elio back on the mattress and kissed and sucked him as devotedly as I could. I loved his cock in my mouth, my fingers on his smooth, soft thighs, his hands clawing into my hair, and before I had had time to fully enjoy what we did, he came with a loud gasp into my mouth. His nails scratched my shoulders. I‘d need to wear a shirt over my swimming trunks the next days. 

I allowed him just a few minutes before I tended to my own burning needs. I had been close to exploding all the time, my cock leaking and twitching in my shorts. I tore them off, lowered myself beside him and started to rock into his hips. I felt one of his beautiful hands grope for me and moaned. Exactly what I needed to drive me over the edge in a matter of seconds. 

He had hastily wiped my come from his belly with one of our shorts while I let my head fall back onto the mattress. I was in heaven. He arranged himself besides me, smiled at me tentatively and put an arm around my shoulder. His cheeks were still moist from tears, so I asked:

„Better now?“

He had started to nod, pursed his lips and shook his head, mumbling:

„Don‘t know. I‘m so confused.“

Before his eyes misted over again, I touched his chest and drew gentle circles on it:

„Don‘t worry. It‘s normal.“

„Is it?“, he asked surprised.

„Yes. It‘s a huge thing happening, isn‘t it?“

He nodded bravely, biting back more tears.

„Come here. Tesoro“, I quoted his mother and kissed him lovingly on the mouth. It became a long, long kiss, and afterwards, he even smiled.

„I‘m so glad it‘s you...“, his voice trailed off. „I wanted it to be you.“

I looked into his large, beautiful eyes. His inexperience and vulnerability moved me. It was then and there that I decided I‘d let him top me that night. His intimate parts were possibly still too afflicted to take me again, even if he‘d all too willingly let me hurt him in his insatiable exuberance. It might be a good thing to show him different ways of pleasuring each other. And I was only too willing to oblige. In fact, the prospect of Elio fucking me made my cock twitch again even if I had found satisfaction only minutes ago. His horniness seemed to be contagious… I couldn‘t avoid a smile. He smiled back, blissfully ignorant of the naughty thoughts in my head, and closed his eyes.

Getting topped was my most inward, most secret desire. I had enjoyed it furtively on random casual encounters. Never with Tom, though, my only steady relationship in this regard. I felt less gay if I behaved with him like I technically would with women – using my cock in the way a man did. It was easier to lie to myself. Convince myself that I was not really gay. That I just enjoyed being with Tom because he was nice and sweet, but that I would certainly be prepared and able to give my parents the desired heir. Topping was not really gay. But being on the receiving end, opening up for another man, and even enjoying it – this always send me into an emotional turmoil. I didn‘t expect anything different now with Elio, but I wanted and needed it more than anything else. I knew I‘d be in for a wild ride, considering his enthusiasm and devotion, but I couldn‘t expect it.

But first, before planting the exciting news into his mind, I‘d need to let him recover from our recent pleasures. I kissed his forehead. He sighed and cuddled closer. I embraced him and felt his breath on my chest. Oh, to lie like that forever, with a dove cooing from above, Mafalda banging pots under us and my lovely boy spent in my arms...


	5. Dinner drudgery

This evening‘s dinner guest was a pretentious, narcissistic colleague of Annella's. He was trying too hard all the time, and Elio and I couldn‘t avoid the occasional raised eyebrow or a heavy patting of each other‘s feet. True drudgery. It become even more tedious as we had decided to have dinner with his parents only for appearance‘s sake. But apart from the guest, the evening was lovely. Mafalda had set the table under the tall old trees, candles flickered in hurricane lamps, the chilled white wine sparkled in our glasses. 

Samuel had been talking at length about the Berlin slides we had sorted during the last two days when Annella‘s colleague remarked:

„Praxiteles would have given a finger if he had had a model like your American guest here.“

Elio remained silent, but pursed his lips in amusement. I felt his foot gracing the whole length of my calve and almost flinched because it tickled. Samuel looked at us, silent for the moment, until he added with a mischievous grin:

„I was thinking so too. Didn‘t want to mention it because it might make Oliver uncomfortable. But, Elly, doesn‘t he remind you of someone?“

„Who? Oliver?“ Elio asked non-committaly, as if my looks were the last thing on earth that interested him.

„Remember Oxford? The Ashmolean?“

Elio couldn‘t avoid a big grin. His eyes lightened up, and he nodded in direction of his father. I felt insecure, not knowing which revelations might follow.

„There is an Apollo there who could be your brother“, Samuel chuckled. „I thought so the first time I saw you.“

„I remembered him when I first saw you in swimming trunks“, Elio added. I felt myself blush, but stroked Elio‘s foot under the table.

„And Elio? In which museum does he dwell?“, I joked. Elio frowned. Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable with being in the centre of a rather strange discussion. Samuel replied:

„It‘s not for us as parents to decide. It‘s unnatural to see your son in such a light. As a beautiful or sensual creature, you see. Oliver, what do you think?“

I felt a lump in my throat. I‘d be completely unable to put my feelings and observations in words in front of all those people here. I had no problem to whisper into Elio‘s ears what I loved about him, which delicate part of his gorgeous body drove me crazy. In fact, I could go on all night long like Sheherazade about him – but not here. The guest harrumphed and rocked his chair on the gravel, pleading nervously:

„If I may add my humble opinion – he‘s the "Sleeping hermaphrodite" “, he whined in his awful nasal voice.

„What?“, Elio flared up rather unexpectedly. „I‘m no hermaphrodite!“

„No, he isn‘t“, I couldn‘t avoid adding, almost chuckling at Elio‘s rage.

„Oliver!“, Annella shot me an amazed glance, as did her colleague. I tried to save my face, having played enough poker to hide my lapsus:

„We shared a bathroom for the last month. I should know.“ I raised my shoulders and smiled around the table. Elio let out a breath and worried his lips. He looked down at his chocolate cake. Samuel seemed to sense the tension, leaned in to kiss his wife and proclaimed:

„I‘ll tell Annella in private which statue she resembles. Because – she does, you know. But it‘s only for us to know.“ She sighed and drew him closer for another kiss. Looking around the table, she declared:

„I‘d like us to be one of those Etruscan couples resting on a sarcophague, with you, my love.“ She patted Samuel‘s hand. „Erect, smiling in eternity and curious about all the pleasure we‘ll find in afterlife.“

„Oh yes, let‘s do that“, the professor added. „Let‘s have a nice, spacious burial chamber. With paintings of an orchard on the walls. For you, tesoro.“

„And Elio can come too. And your wife. And your children.“

Elio replied grumpily:

„And if I don‘t want to marry?“

„Then you bring whoever was important to you in life, chéri“, Annella soothed him. She exchanged a look with me, calm and sweet, and I knew once more: she knew.

We excused as as soon after dessert as possible. Elio rounded the table, crouched and hugged his mother from behind. He kissed her cheek affectionately, I saw him mumbling something into her ear. She patted his hands and raised her cheek for another kiss. I‘d never been as affectionate and cuddly with my parents. It warmed my heart to see how happy both were when together.

Elio and I enjoyed the cooling night by sitting on the balustrade that had become my treasured hiding place at night. We were far enough from the lights of the villa and couldn‘t be heard also, so we gave in to our impulses uninhibitedly and shared long missed intimacies and kisses. How dreadfully long a dinner can be!

After Elio had complained that we had wasted too many days already, I tried to calm him:

„We still have many nights before us. Starting with today.“

He kneaded my naked thigh even harder and leaned in for another hungry kiss:

„I can‘t wait to feel you inside me again.“

I shook my head:

„No, no, no, no, no. We won‘t do that tonight.“

Elio shot up:

„What? Why?“

He seemed obviously upset. I stroked his arms, kissed the side of his neck and whispered:

„I won‘t do that to you. Not tonight. You need time to recover from last night...“

He interrupted me:

„No, I don‘t! I‘m fine! Please, we can‘t waste even more days. Oliver!“

His rage was endearing. I shushed him by pulling him close and whispering straight into his ear:

„I want you to do what I did to you last night.“

His wriggling, fighting figure froze. Then he went limp in my arms, let out a loud wheeze and came up to my face. His eyes sparkled:

„You mean… You‘re sure about that?“

I nodded and smiled at his face. Like a child on christmas morning.

„Did you – I mean, did you ever do that? Getting – you know?“

I nodded again. He raised his eyebrows:

„Oh“. He worried his lips for a few seconds, then looked at me again. „And did you enjoy it?“

„Oh yes“, I sighed. His face lit up. „I‘ve been planning this all over dinner. I couldn‘t sit still anymore. Especially when this ridiculous comparison of the hermaphrodite arose and I knew, I just knew with absolute certainty, this man next to me is no hermaphrodite and is hopefully proving it to me very soon.“ He giggled:

„Yes, I‘ll show you...“ He covered my lips with a moist, messy kiss and breathed: „When can we start?“

I chuckled about his energy:

„The question is rather where, I‘d say. It‘s too early to be safe in your room, isn‘t it? I wouldn‘t want your parents...“

He nodded thoughtfully.

„Here? Now?“, he suggested, raising himself on a new level of impatience.

„No. Too public. Isn‘t it?“

He played with the buttons of my shirt and was silent for a few seconds.

„Marzia‘s parents have got a beach hut. You can lock it from inside.“

„You go there with Marzia?“ He nodded. „Out of the question.“

He looked up in the sky, gripping and kneading my thigh with growing impatience.

„The berm?“ I suggested.

„Too far. And you won‘t be able to sit on a bike when I‘m done with you.“

I wrestled him down and tickled his ribs until he buckled under me and screeched.

„Let‘s see if you know what to do at all!“, I teased. Suddenly, he slapped my thigh:

„The attic.“

„Is no-one coming up there at night?“

„Shouldn‘t think so. There‘s no electricity up there.“

He looked at me. All playfulness was gone when he said solemnly and sweetly:

„I‘ll fuck you in the attic.“

Lust and desire flashed in my stomach. I couldn‘t await it.

„Now?“, I asked.

„Yes. Go ahead. I‘ll just say good-night to my parents.“


	6. Another midnight

The dim, narrow staircase into the attic was difficult to navigate without any light. I had brought a tiny candle in a glass I had found in Elio‘s room, along with my lighter and another necessary provision for our pleasures, and cursed inwardly because I didn‘t have a free hand to orientate myself in the staircase. Finally upstairs, a wave of musty heat washed over me. There wasn‘t much circulation of air up here, but we found out that the temperature slowly dropped during the night. 

I bumped into something, was glad to have opted for my espadrilles and finally touched the mattress with my feet. I lighted the candle and put it cautiously on some piece of cast-off furniture. Immediately, a tiny, soft yellow glow illuminated the vast room. And now?

I didn‘t want to lay down without Elio. I was in an almost nervous state of expectancy. This was a very special night for me. I wanted to greet him upright. Tenderly and submissive, but – on my feet. How long would he take to placate his parents and their guests? I had taken my time in the bathroom to freshen up and make myself pleasant for Elio and started to grow impatient. Horny also. I felt butterflies in my stomach considering the forbidden pleasures that lay ahead of me. I was certain Elio didn‘t need too much guidance to give me the greatest pleasure. Oh, to have a man inside me again, after all those years… I moaned and squeezed my painfully itching cock. Where was Elio?

I paced the large room slowly, in order not to swirl up too much dust and not to bump and hurt my feet again.

The Bach chorale Elio had practised over the last few days floated through my mind. I loved the melody and had Elio asked about the text. Snippets of it played in my head: „Behold, the bridegroom comes.“ If he‘d only appear. I was more nervous than any bride. „Their friend comes in heavenly splendour, with graceful strength“ - a noise from the staircase startled me. Someone came. I hoped not – no, it was Elio. Barely recognizable in the flickering light of the tiny candle, but I knew his light step. „Graceful strength“, indeed. Silently and slowly, he crossed the room. I had turned towards him, equally silent, and was nervous like a virgin. We didn‘t talk at first. He took my hands in his and just looked at me sweetly. The little light we had was reflected in his large, kind eyes. Time stopped and hung heavy between us. I didn‘t think about wasted time any more, nor about the long stretch of time we‘d spend without each other soon. I was just there, in this moment that expanded into centuries. In the attic, with Elio, on the cusp of something new to come. The silence between us was so great that my ears started to hum. I stirred.

„Are you sure about this?“, he whispered. I didn‘t want to break the almost holy silence and nodded. 

„I‘m glad you came“, I repeated my words from last night. He grinned before leaning in to finally kiss me. He just wore shorts, like I did, and when I embraced him and felt the naked skin of his back under my fingers, desire shot like a stream of lava through my stomach. I gently pushed his shorts over his hips and he did the same for me. Stepping around to get rid of them, we almost fell and groped for each other‘s arms, resulting in an awkward little dance, some giggles and finally a long, senusal embrace. How good it felt to hold him naked in my arms again. I couldn‘t but rub my erect cock against his skinny hips and he moaned lasciviously directly in my ear. 

„I want you, Elio...“ His breath tickled my ear. I shuddered. „I need you...“

Gently, he guided me backwards to the mattress. We lowered ourselves on it, carefully and slowly. He lay on top of me, rocked his hips into me and kissed and bit my neck. I slipped a bit more upwards, pulling him along with me, until my head was on the moth-eaten pillow. He heaved himself onto his elbows and scrutinized my face lovingly. A sweet, questioning, expectant look. I nodded and lifted my knees for him. I knew I was in the best of hands if I trusted him. He was my friend. My lover. The light of my mornings, the light of my night. My husband and my wife. My other half. I couldn‘t await it to have him inside me, to hold him, to lose myself into him. Become one with him and forget everything around us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end, for now! Thanks so much for your encouragement! Considering that I didn't plan to write anything AT ALL and didn't like Oliver in the beginning, I'm amazed myself at how far I've come. I don't know though if I'll continue. Maybe I just needed this to understand Oliver better, find him more likeable - maybe there's more, who knows.  
> Thanks for reading!


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